


Triphase

by DisorientedOwl



Category: Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers to Exlovers to Lovers again, M/M, One Last Adventure, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Suspension Bridge Effect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:24:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisorientedOwl/pseuds/DisorientedOwl
Summary: The last in the trilogy of Hysteresis.Megatron is happy in retirement. Let the Autobots titter and fight among themselves, it didn't matter to him he wanted to enjoy the last of his many many many days in the comfort of his own home.But when an old flame seeks him out to repay a debt, the sparks fly and maybe, just maybe that old flame is rekindled.
Relationships: Megatron/Ratchet (Transformers)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hysteresis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11052162) by [DisorientedOwl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisorientedOwl/pseuds/DisorientedOwl). 



It is said that age makes you find a sort of rhythmic descent to your death. This is why we have early bird specials and matinees. The aging and elderly fall into a daily routine only interrupted by hospital visits or learning of another heart attack in your canasta group. You’ll have to switch to mahjong and then you’ll have to lend out your husband to Jennifer’s husband to play golf and his complaining about his hip as of late. This is what makes Florida so attractive to the elderly. They can pleasantly attend bingo with the occasional excitement of heavy wind and rains to keep them young. Then, when they die, they’ll rot much quicker in the water and peat. 

In his own way, Megatron was having his own Floridian retirement on Thear. There wasn’t as much rain of course; the planet had a foggy season before the rainy season and then a mild nine month summer. But Megatron had food in excess, plenty of routine untiring entertainment, and ruminating about the golden shimmers of his past in the tepid breeze.

Megatron probably wouldn’t play canasta, not because he would poke holes in the cards but rather because he was more of a gin rummy sort of ‘bot. For Megatron, leisurely hedonism was a drug of time, slowly rusting him from history datapads. He’d come to enjoy it. 

For him, it was another perfect day. Megatron casually sipped on his Energon, enjoying it as he enjoyed the morning: slowly. Although he could be reading the news from Cybertron, he’d decided to indulge in a short fictional mystery instead. In recent years, especially after the Decepticon council incident, Megatron didn’t derive much pleasure from the news. This was because it was mostly about Optimus Prime. Besides, it was amazing what the organix’ minds could produce. In this novel a young organix could see ghosts and solve mysteries. Somehow they still were grossly incompetant. 

He paused in his book, taking a moment to take a sip from his energon. Away from the scrolling words he entertained the idea of stopping by the neighbors farm in his alt-mode to help them plow the land, a nice exercise of his joints before an early rest and repeating it all over tomorrow. 

The sunlight, the leisurely intake of energon, the cooling breeze, nothing could ruin this perfect day in a long line of perfect days.

In reality, relaxation made Megatron more of a honed killing machine than ever before. Something the organix knew and perhaps that’s why they kept him so well maintained. There were actually two different peoples of Thear that got along politely as two factions with no intent on destroying all their natural resources would. His particular group was the one his host grew up with, so whether made them good or bad was like asking if your mother was morally just or morally evil. You cannot answer that, she’s your mother. You also can’t ignore her calls for that same reason. Either way, Megatron knew he was an ambiguous presence that favored his ‘side’ much like the threat of a lawyer. As long as he was kept comfortable he didn’t mind resolving the occasional tiff; peacefully of course. 

A noise interrupted his dozing thoughts. At first he didn’t recognize it, but when it came again he was thrust back into the past. Someone pinged him. Just one general request for location from an Autobot signal. If it was a Decepticon hunter, he wouldn’t be so polite. Which meant it was someone he knew. 

Megatron probably liked that even worse. 

However, time made Megatron patient. There were only two Autobot’s he wouldn’t want to see in that moment. But it wouldn’t ruin his day completely, after all he could just tell his organic friends they were a threat. They couldn’t do anything against what they perceived as weaker beings. 

Megatron could hear walking in the treeline so he waited patiently for them to reveal themselves. He thought he saw a flash of red.

Ratchet showed himself and stepped from the trees. Walking across an open field as if to say 'you can shoot me if you're prepared to. I come in peace.'

He offered a persuasive temptation. Megatron’s memory had a lot of words for the tired medic that stared at him. But even in the time it took for Ratchet to walk to his front door, the words didn’t organize themselves by any meaningful categorization. His word processor sincerely hoped that Ratchet would start the talking so that he could have a justified rant or sassy rebuttal. 

Megatron was having a good day. The sun was shining, the energon was fresh and life in retirement was sweet. Until Ratchet showed up.

There were only two words he wanted to hear from him. In the most favorable outcome it was three but that would only happen in Megatron’s cabin fevered dreams. In reality, it would only take two words and Ratchet could say anything after that and he would be happy.

Ratchet approached his humble abode, it was slightly risen (something the organix insisted on) and now it made Megatron feel as if he was some grounded seeker held high in the tower and the medic was his ne’er do well grounder with a forbidden love. He set aside his book and glowered down at the Autobot, keeping his seat like a king waiting for his subject to address him.

“Megatron.”

An acceptable tone, Ratchet was keeping something close to his chest that he needed to release. Something he could say to no one else. If anyone even knew he was here his loyalties might fall into question. 

“I need your help,” he said.

Those were very much the wrong words.

“You left me for three days and then never said a word. I had to rely on the kindness of a stranger to flee to safety. I was ashamed of who I was and how you made me feel.” Megatron seethed, “Why would I ever help you?”

“The D.J.D. took Electraceae.”

Megatron stood up, took short controlled steps to his door and made sure to carefully slam it behind him. 

Ratchet heard it lock.

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron and Ratchet have a heart to heart and decide they can work together to save the wayward Autobot.
> 
> **NBR**

Good apologies usually begin with an ‘I’m sorry’. If anyone says ‘Apologies’ or ‘I apologize’ they do not actually feel sorry for what they’ve done. The next part of a good apology is to tell them why you’re sorry and then ask if they can accept your feelings, despite your misdeeds. This is where a lot of people get it wrong. In Ratchet’s case it was ‘I’m sorry but we need to talk’. The phrase ‘we need to talk’ is probably the second worst phrase in the English language. Its ranking in NeoCybex is considerably lower as they include negatives in their ranking. Rest assured, it’s just as bad. 

Of course, Ratchet said it to a closed door outside of Megatron’s home. He didn’t know if Megatron could hear him. But he was listening. As mad as he was at the Autobot outside, Ratchet knew how to begin a conversation. Blunt, straight to the point, it was hard to imagine he had such a different bedside manner. The D.J.D., or Decepticon Justice Division, hadn’t been heard from in centuries. He hadn’t even heard rumors about them eons before the Decepticon assault on Earth. He’d assumed they were dead.

No one really enjoyed being worshiped, at least those who are mentally stable don’t. Megatron always liked to keep them as far out of mind as possible. As far out as sadistic psychopaths that enjoyed torture could be out of your head. 

But Ratchet was waiting out there, like a stalker in the night. Megatron spoke through the door, “Well, what do you want me to do about it? Isn’t Optimus the defender of Cybertron? Can’t he go get her?”

“May I please come inside to talk?”

He vented. He didn’t need to think about it, of course he would have to let him in. It wasn’t a conversation to have through a door. But he counted several long clicks before opening it. 

“Come in.”

Ratchet looked stressed. Well, more stressed than he used to look. He was graying beneath his optics. He looked like he was still in the war.

“Thank you.”

Megatron took a big step back to allow Ratchet more space than needed. This wasn’t a social visit and the last thing he wanted on his mind later was the medic.

“Please, sit.”

“Thank you,” 

Ratchet looked around at his home. It was surprisingly organic. 

“This is a nice place.”

“Thank you. I had to stay at her place for a little while until it was finished, they didn’t expect someone so large. I enjoy their philosophies on interior design.”

“It’s nice,” Ratchet repeated. 

“Would you like some energon?”

Ratchet pulled out the chair and tested it. It was surprisingly sturdy, “Ah, no thank you.”

Megatron sat down across from him and rested his elbows on the table, folding his servo over his fist and looked very serious.

“A few years ago, the….” Ratchet struggled with the right word, “Galvatron led council began rounding up Decepticons, hoping to put them into stasis and purge the world of Autobot sympathizers. They mistakenly believed Electraceae to be sympathetic to the Decepticon cause and exiled her. Their hope was to use her as a propaganda tool once they finished rewriting history.”

Ratchet paused to give Megatron time to ask any questions. When none came, he continued, “The prisoner transport carrying her stasis pod crashed. However, when scrappers went out to salvage the wreck-”

Ratchet gave a long sigh and pinched his nose bridge. Then he continued, “They found some stasis pods untouched, but the crew and some Decepticon prisoners were torn apart with most of them missing their brain module. Electraceae was presumed dead because the area of the ship with her stasis pod in it was damaged the most.”

“Where were you during all this?”

“Off planet. They consigned me to become a Decepticon hunter but I was really just trying to figure out what the council was doing. My communications hub was damaged in battle...so I just left it. At the time I wanted to get away from Cybertron and the memories there.”

Megatron understood how he felt.

Ratchet made a noise to imply he was not doing well, something between a laugh and a long drawn out, out of tune note, “Silverwing, a Decepticon guard sent out a distress beacon from Paladron. The Council received the message but kept it quiet.”

Megatron did like the way Ratchet left out a few details, hoping for a conversation. 

“But I went to Earth, Soundwave says hi by the way. I think he tried to send you a message.”

“Huh,” Megatron shook his helm, “I never received it, but I’m glad he’s doing well.”

“No surprise, I found the Prime and Bumblebee,” Ratchet paused, as if saying his name would spontaneously cause an energon leak, “Optimus was revived by the Prime’s to fulfill some sort of duty. In this case, rid the Earth of lingering Decepticon activity and unify Cybertron.”

He muttered under his breath, “As if they don’t have any other perfectly good Autobot to do that to.”

Megatron hid his grin behind his fist.

“So the Prime and Bumblebee returned to Cybertron and overthrew the Council to serve Cybertron’s great destiny. Right around that time, a field medic sold information to the newsfeeds stating she’d seen Electraceae alive.”

Ratchet’s sigh had more to it and Megatron resisted the urge to give him a servo to hold, “One of the Council members alerted us to the message they intercepted a year earlier. Silverwing stated that it was the Decepticon Justice Division and they had Electraceae. He attempted to trade his own life for hers.

“The Prime approved a small team to investigate Paradron. They found Silverwing with his helm blown completely off by a high energy weapon at point blank range.”

Megatron frowned, it didn’t sound like the D.J.D. They usually took their time to relish the experience. 

“While the team was on Paradron I tracked down the informant. She was a field medic for criminals and scavengers. She confirmed what the team couldn’t; that Electraceae was in the servos of the D.J.D. she didn’t reveal this to the press in fear they would come after her. However, she confirmed that she’s alive.”

Ratchet took another break.

“Would you like some coolant?” Megatron asked politely.

“No, thank you for offering.”

“You’re welcome.”

“She gave me the coordinates of their interaction in exchange for protection on Cybertron.”

“So why not take this to Optimus.”

Ratchet hesitated, “The Prime said that it wasn’t in the D.J.D.’s nature to harm an Autobot. That if she was alive and had no internal or external damage then she wasn’t a priority. He would send a team out to investigate once Cybertron’s government reached equilibrium.”

Ratchet fell silent. Megatron had a lot to consider. But they were both comfortable in the lull.

“I understand,” Megatron finally spoke, “I will take care of it, give me the coordinates.”

Ratchet stared at him with those beautiful blue optics, “You can’t provide her with medical care alone.” 

“You aren’t the only medic in the galaxy.”

Megatron studied him, the corners of his mouth turned down and he studied the table, as if there were answers written there.

“How is Optimus?”

Ratchet puffed out air, “Optimus died a long time ago.”

That was all he had to say. They knew the Prime well enough to understand the meaning. But there were so many other questions Megatron wanted to ask the medic. To ask them without being a complete fool wasn’t something he could do.

“You seem prepared to face them on your own, why waste time coming here?”

“I….” Ratchet trailed off, he scowled like he often did when data didn’t make sense or an experiment failed. “Primus, you’re right why…?”

A familiar flame lit itself in Megatron’s chestplating and he found himself making excuses, “No, forget I asked. If Prime wouldn’t help you’d be sending anyone else out to die.”

Ratchet was still stuck on the first question. Why had he come here? On Cybertron, it was the logical decision to make, but there were plenty of Decepticon hunters, he could have asked Wheeljack or Bulkhead. 

Megatron spoke up before his mind slipped into a dark place, “I’ll go with you, I owe that much.”

“Yeah,” Ratchet frowned.

That wasn’t how the medic usually responded, but the warlord let it slide for now.

“Let’s not waste more time,” Megatron rose to leave.

Ratchet silently appreciated the way his digits lingered on the table.

The silence between them was less painful than the occasional small talk used to break it. So, Ratchet did his best to make their trip to the ship as short as possible. This caused one complication. Outside of take off they were about to embark on a journey that would be nothing but long silences with awkward conversation unless one of them did something about it. In the ship there wasn’t much entertainment besides each other’s company.

“This is a nice ship,” Megatron began. 

“Thanks,” Ratchet replied.

“Did Optimus lend it to you?”

“No, it’s mine.”

“Hmm.”

“I didn’t tell the Prime I was doing this. He was...uh...concentrating on other things.

“Oh,” Megatron hazarded a question, “Did you tell him anything else?”

The warbuild expected a quick witted response like ‘what else is there to tell him’ but Ratchet sighed.

“I don’t think the Prime would understand or care. He’s been reprogrammed to believe the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

Megatron frowned, “That doesn’t sound like Optimus.”

“But I did think about it a lot.”

“What?”

“Us,” Ratchet shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “I mean, our time together.”

Megatron spoke up quickly, “I don’t think I’m in the right processor frame to talk about this.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

The irritated and snappy response made Megatron relax.

“Besides, we don’t have to talk about it at all.”

“Then let’s not talk about it.”

“There’s no changing how we feel.”

“That’s—“ Megatron cut himself off.

Never mind that they were saving an Autobot whose ability was changing how anybody could feel.

“We either have to ignore our feelings or….”

“Talk about them?” Megatron supplied helpfully.

“Exactly, which we aren’t doing.”

“Correct.”

“Until you’re in the right mindset.”

“Yes,” Megatron spoke politely before making a noise in his voice box.

“Do you want to listen to some music? It’s just her stuff you know...no one else really makes anything—“

“I do,” Megatron said hurriedly.

Ratchet immediately blasted the music. It wasn’t what either of them were into. Mainly because it was filled with sticky sweet optimism. And occasionally the lyrics made Megatron want to jump over to Ratchet and kiss him as if it was the only thing he ever wanted to do his whole measly time on Thear.

But the music did clear his mind of other things. Once Ratchet engaged auto-pilot, Megatron stood with him.

“Where are we going first?”

“Well, my contact mentioned that the ship looked like it came under fire. We’re heading to a Caminus family run repair depot. If I was running and trying to stay under the radar with a celebrity in my midst, that’s where I’d go.”

“And if they didn’t go there?” 

“I’m just betting they did. There is a criminal Decepticon circuit not far from there.”

Megatron gazed over the map, “How safe do you think she is with them?”

“I was going to ask you that, I wasn’t aware the DJD took prisoners.”

“They don’t,” Megatron focused in on an area with his digits. “They occasionally take recruits, but they have ways of getting information from people.”

“So until we find out _why_ they’re keeping her, we could be chasing shadows.”

Megatron sighed, “We do have one advantage, the DJD update their list to a file I have access to. If we get close enough to them, I’ll know what they’re looking for.”

“How close is close?”

“Within termination shock.”

“Close enough then.”

Ratchet frowned and nestled his chin in his servo. Megatron watched him, the way his shoulders rose as he kept the tension of his thoughts in his shoulder plating. He knew if he looked too long the medic would notice him staring. So he turned back to the screen. 

If he knew the DJD well enough, they would be after high profile traitors. 

“The mech they found, with his head blown off, what was his name?”

“Hmm, Silverwing?”

“Decepticon?”

“He was, he got a bit of notoriety for becoming the first to hand over his warbuild. Transforms into a bird based creature.”

His punishment didn’t fit the crime. The DJD Megatron knew would have torn him limb from limb and taken their time doing it. 

“What happens to the Decepticons who refuse to change?”

“They can’t come into Cybertron they’ll have to go someplace else.”

Megatron tapped his digits on the screen but caught Ratchet looking. 

“What are you thinking?”

“They’re awfully close to Undermine,” Megatron said thoughtfully, “This jungle planet here could be their next target.”

“You think we should go there first?”

“No,” Megatron leaned back decisively, “You’re right, if they did visit this repair shop it’s a good place to go for information. Because unless we reach Undermine before they do, anyone that can tell us something valuable there will probably be dead already.”

Ratchet nodded, “I’ll import the coordinates right away.”

Megatron watched his hips as he turned away.

“Megatron?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you, for helping me. I know it’s not for me but….”

It wasn’t an apology, but it made Megatron feel better which was a good place to start.


	3. NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I tag chapters NSFW that means they bone.
> 
> Ratchet and Megatron share a reminder of their past.

There was plenty of room to be alone on Ratchet’s ship, yet Megatron found himself bumping into the medic constantly. Yet, Ratchet gave him his space at all times.

Energon was left to be consumed at Megatron’s leisure in a small cooling chamber; Ratchet had his own mysteries to work through.

Finding Optimus alive was the first time Ratchet was reminded of Megatron. The second time was when Optimus, seemingly for no reason, began to clash with Bumblebee on Earth. Long trips with Optimus furthered Ratchet’s distrust of this new version of the Prime. He spoke to Windblade as if they were old friends! But what frustrated Ratchet the most was that Optimus no longer held that protectiveness towards organics.

Back in the war, there were moments on Earth when Ratchet wished Optimus wouldn’t have held Cybertronians’ fates over the single life of a human. Optimus cared for every life: Autobot, human, and unfortunately Decepticon life as well. But this Optimus- whoever he was- had changed beyond recognition. A puppet with the same face and voice as his old friend.

Change could be good. Sometimes. Megatron was proof of that. But this kind of change pushed Ratchet away. Or perhaps Ratchet had chosen to run.

Prime had offered some form of explanation about it one night to Ratchet.

“When I became one with Primus, the Primes concluded that to fight Megatronus, I must pass several trials. It seems to me now they were testing my abilities in my new form, as well as my moral values.”

_Trials._ Ratchet preferred to call them tortures. Only Optimus could be positive about being tortured and reformatted. At that time, Ratchet was able to sense the absolute absurdity of the explanation, but he knew Prime could change as much as one could, but he would never learn to lie. When pressed further, Optimus feigned being needed for a patrol and paid Ratchet no further mind.

Was that why he came to Megatron? Was he seeking revenge on Prime for not flocking immediately to him post-resurrection to dote on him? Or was it because Prime didn’t care about Electraceae? Normally, he would risk anything to rescue even a single Cybertronian from harm, especially after Ratchet told him she had nothing to defend herself with. Instead, he told Ratchet that for the ‘good of Cybertron it was best they left her behind.’ Prime also supported Bumblebee remaining on Earth- something Ratchet advised against. Yet when he brought up the idol, Optimus told him that the unification of Cybertron was more important and he didn’t want to worry the people in uncertain times by going after one Autobot.

Ratchet came to a slow, unsettling realization that the second worst thing had occurred: Prime offlined, and then when Primus seemed merciful enough to bring him back, it wasn’t really _him_.

______

Unlike Megatron, Ratchet seemed to be constantly busy. He flitted from one datapad to a compartment to counting inventory to some other mundane task that just _had_ to be completed now.

There was no particular reason for Megatron to come out of his quarters. However, compared to his luxurious rustic mid-century bachelor’s pad on Thear, the sparse living space was suffocating. In fact, despite its massive size, the ship’s hull felt as if it was closing in on him.

Megatron had his own unspoken worries but kept looking up at the medic each time the white and red frame passed. It wasn’t like he was ungrateful to the idol that let him live comfortably these last years. He was _grateful_ once he got over his anger at Ratchet. Electraceae was taken prisoner by then.

Ratchet passed again, this time with a large box in his servos and Megatron watched his hips as he walked. When the medic lifted it onto a tall shelf, Megatron’s helm tilted slightly as he watched his aft and pedes.

A whole year with the DJD. Megatron felt it was torture, even if they were amicable. How long had the mistake of the DJD kept grinding around the system? They were something Megatron wanted to keep in the past long before he set foot on Earth. They were so far in his past they were mentally put away as a problem solved. Perhaps in the past his hope was that the Autobots would murder them. Or that they would become bored of worshipping him? Megatron had bigger things to worry about at the time. That was why he’d sent them away. They got underfoot, and at any sign of questioning Megatron’s leadership Tarn would lose his processor.

More present were the questions he had: the DJD weren’t known to take prisoners. They left behind the innocent and punished the guilty according to their crimes.

It both _did_ and did _not_ take much to end up on the list. Silverwing sounded like someone who would end up on the wrong end of the DJD’s fury perhaps more easily than others. Why was he spared a rightful and- according to the DJD- more suitable punishment? Did they spare him for her? A trade? Unless something changed in his years away, Electraceae would be their first. Megatron needed answers which meant speaking with the medic.

“Ratchet,” Megatron tore his gaze away from the medic’s lower half to pretend he was transfixed by the blank datapad in front of him.

“Hm?”

“What was her condition when the field medic found her?”

“Oh,” Ratchet seemed confused by the sudden conversation, “Well, the medic thought she was being drugged but I believe they ran out of her fuel and gave her Energon.”

“Was she tortured?”

The look Ratchet gave him made Megatron switch tactics. He cleared his throat. “What are the side effects of fueling her with standard Energon?”

“Hmh. It’s a bit like living off high grade, right?” he said as if Megatron knew. He stepped down from his position of restocking the medical shelves. “They wouldn’t, you know…take advantage?” He raised an optical ridge.

Megatron smoothed over his emotions, hoping Ratchet wasn’t sensitive enough to see his face, “I’m wondering why they’ve kept her so long. They have ways to extract information.”

Ratchet looked away, but his ‘organizing’ got louder. “There wasn’t damage consistent with torture. Just some unusual denting. I anticipated you would know more.”

“What did she do after I left?”

“She was sentenced to exile the same time I was encouraged new employment.”

But being sympathetic to the Decepticon cause wasn’t a crime worthy of the DJD. Ratchet began to pace.

“The field medic said she looked worn out. She didn’t say she was tortured. Why?”

“It’s irregular.”

“How is it irregular?”

“Have any Decepticons told you about the DJD?”

“No.”

It was difficult to explain. The DJD was something for Decepticons to fear. They did their best to dodge Autobot notoriety. Most Decepticons now believed the DJD to be disbanded, or dead. At least, until now.

“Does she possess something important to the Council? Something they would want?” Ratchet made another round in his pacing when he asked the question.

“It would have to be something no one else has,” Megatron paused, “And it means she isn’t giving it to them. Despite their efforts. What secret would a little thing like her have?”

Ratchet tapped on his chin, “She did employ a great deal of Decepticon personnel. And she was an escort before she was an idol. Perhaps they are looking for one of her clients. Why does it matter?”

“If we knew why she is their prisoner we might known where they’re going. Or what they’re after.”

Ratchet scraped at his helm, “Do you really believe they are torturing her?”

Megatron stood up and carefully caught the medic mid-pace, doing his best to keep his grip non-threatening but firm on the littler mech’s arm.

“Speculating gets us nowhere. I’m here now. We’ll save her together.”

Ratchet stared at him, transfixed, but then turned his helm and muttered something softly.

“What?” Megatron leaned down to listen.

“I hate you,” Ratchet professed before standing as tall as possible to give Megatron a chaste kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to get some supplies.”

It was enough for Megatron to freeze. Ratchet continued to walk out the room, presumably to do as he stated. Once Megatron recovered, he found himself stalking the length of the ship. Once, Megatron might’ve worried the sight of his bulking frame was too much for the medic. Surprisingly, Ratchet held his ground and watched impassively as the warbuild approached him. However, before he could speak Megatron captured his lips.

Megatron lifted Ratchet as if he weighed nothing, nudging his pede between those white thighs.

“Primus,” Ratchet said breathily when he pulled away, “I thought you wanted to talk about this.”

“Quiet.”

Ratchet clung to his shoulders to balance himself as the warbuild kissed him. Ratchet was clumsy with his glossa but maybe they both were. Megatron didn’t care that he was too forceful with his glossa causing Ratchet to force his mouth open or risk Megatron’s teeth clamping down on it.

Megatron broke the kiss only to look wildly for anywhere to place the medic. He saw the console for a storage unit on the wall.

“Shouldn’t we talk at least a little?”

“No,” he slammed on the console, “Come on.”

“I have a berth,” Ratchet said helplessly as Megatron dragged him into the dimly lit room. Megatron answered by activating the doorlock before leaning down to kiss him again. Ratchet nuzzled into the kiss. The motion lit his sensors from his pedes up to the back to his helm.

“Ratchet?”

The medic seemed to need a moment between kisses, and Megatron’s memory reminded him that this is what the medic looked like when he was aroused.

“You want to…do this?”

“Yes,” Ratchet snapped. Megatron bit him in response, right on his neck cabling which made Ratchet arch up and press a warm panel against him.

The carefully organized shelves gave up their burden as Megatron hoisted the medic up and pinned him to the now mismatched sliding jumble of parts. He would do his damndest to make sure this room got as dirty as possible.

“Megatron,” Ratchet spoke when they separated from the passionate kisses, “I need to tell you something.”

“Hush.”

Megatron lunged to capture him with kisses again but Ratchet turned aside, “I missed you.”

When Megatron pulled away to look at his faceplate, Ratchet got more flustered about that than the fact that this encounter was rather illicit. Megatron used the opportunity to kiss him again.

This time, when they parted, Ratchet didn’t try to speak. Instead, Megatron felt Ratchet drag his blunt denta on his neck cables.

Megatron made a noise in his vocal processor. Any doubt of Ratchet’s enthusiasm fell away with the medic’s paneling.

“You’re so wet,” Megatron muttered into his audial. Ratchet tilted his helm up as he panted out his pleasure. His pede slipped then readjusted on the shelving. He was trying to be quiet, as if they could be discovered on this empty ship. As if this tiny room was where they took their secret trysts. Megatron let the fantasy play out in his mind. Wasn’t Optimus on this ship before? And here they were, trying to hide their sexual interface from the memories of Autobots.

Megatron slipped his digits into Ratchet’s valve. There was enough wetness in there for Megatron to push two digits in without much resistance. Ratchet responded immediately with a moan, muffled behind his servo.

Megatron started slowly, but Ratchet reacted more positive than expected. Megatron increased his thrusting almost lazily and Ratchet cried out. Suddenly, Megatron’s servo felt wetter- watery even. When he withdrew it, Ratchet’s valve fluids even leaked onto the floor.

“I…” the medic stuttered out behind his servo, flustered with the sudden overload.

Megatron ignored the attempted apology and stuffed his digits back inside of Ratchet’s overflowing valve. He was regarded with the appetizing squelch of Ratchet’s valve voraciously consuming them. It had been a while for the both of them. Ratchet wasn’t stifling his moans anymore but then again, Megatron was being unfair. He was fairly certain- in this state of processor- Ratchet wouldn’t last long without another overload. Megatron caressed his lover’s helm before kissing it gently.

“I’m overloading,” Ratchet cried out, his voice lined with static as more valve fluids gushed around Megatron’s digits.

The overload came easily and in such quick succession too. Had Ratchet really gone untouched all this time? Well, Megatron would rise to the occasion.

“Hnngh!” Ratchet cried out and lurched as if the spike now in his valve was a surprising turn of events. There was plenty of lubrication but Megatron still felt the resistance of the mesh around him. He held onto Ratchet’s lower back, supporting the frame in his hands as the medic shuddered with each thrust.

Ratchet grasped at the shelves to pull himself up to angle onto the warlord’s spike. Ratchet’s valve was excruciatingly tight now; Megatron had to think about other things to avoid ending this little tryst prematurely.

Ratchet clutched Megatron to him, shifting his weight in hopes Megatron could carry all of him. The larger mech lifted his servo up Ratchet’s back soothingly.

With how tender Ratchet was, Megatron had no need to take his time or torture the Autobot with a languid climax. So when Ratchet craned up to give him desperate kisses to avoid the seizing of his valve, Megatron found himself overcome with spark flutters.

With those fevered kisses any tension and worry fell away. There was only Ratchet’s clinging servos and his lips and glossa doing their best to distract him from his impeding surrender.

Ratchet squirmed, pulling away from the kisses to shudder. He didn’t need to say anything, Megatron was just as close and together, in the hidden and cramped space of a supply closet, they came to a climax.

Megatron withdrew and let Ratchet rest on the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet and Megatron search for clues in the backwaters of a fueling station. Maybe they talk about their feelings.

The next few cycles were filled with Ratchet’s mournful look; Megatron did his best to reflect on his actions. It wasn’t fair for him to be so intimate with Ratchet without talking to him. The way the medic eased closer every time they were in proximity made his spark ache. _He_ had been the one to say they couldn’t talk yet. And he was the one who ravaged the medic in a supply closet like they were having a secret tryst from themselves.

Megatron liked that part. He admitted he thought about it often. The way Ratchet would turn his helm to let Megatron bite and kiss his neck cabling. The way his optics would brighten every time Megatron-

Well, he couldn’t think about it too long.

But Ratchet wanted their relationship more defined than it was. He would probably even let Megatron frag him in every closet on the ship if it meant he got closure. But to do that wouldn’t be fair, and Megatron realized he wanted to clear the air.

A soft knock sounded through the room and Megatron jumped up.

The door slid open and Megatron spoke before Ratchet got the chance. “We should talk.”

Ratchet looked surprised by the sudden demand. He’d presumed they both hadn’t exactly been eager to see each other.

“Ah…yes, of course let me…just….”

“Oh,” Megatron shifted uncomfortably, “Did you have something you wanted to say first?”

“No,” Ratchet had a data pad in his servo which he slid away, “It’s just…we’ve arrived. But we have time, I suppose.”

Megatron paused: was he really going to prioritize this over the rescue of their ward?

“No, you’re right we should take care of this first.”

“… Yes. We’ll talk when we get back,” Ratchet supplied.

“Yes,” Megatron straightened up and stepped through the doorway.

“ _You_ will talk.” It was an accusation and an order.

“Of course,” Megatron vented. He couldn’t blame Ratchet for being cautious. After all, the last time he put this off it didn’t exactly end in a productive discussion.

It was time to change the subject.

“Brief me on the planet?”

Ratchet nodded, pulling the data pad to him, and gesturing as he walked, “It was once a mining planet, as you know. Now it serves as a refuel point for inbound and outbound travelers. A small city helps with citizen infrastructure and it is now a neutral territory. They get data feeds and support from Caminus, but it’s considered taboo to partake in combat on-planet.”

Megatron nodded, “Then it would be a good place to refuel and fix a ship without people asking too many questions, and a good place to meet with a field medic willing to fix anyone.”

Ratchet nodded and pulled up a map, “I believe they also attempted to distill some fuel for her here.”

He pointed at the map and Megatron looked at his faceplate rather than the location.

“It’s a fuel distilling plant. I think we should go there first and then try the repair bay.”

“The repair bay would probably be less inclined to disclose client information,” Megatron tore his optics away from Ratchet to do some less distracted thinking. “But we could engage in friendly conversation at the fueling station.”

“’Engage in friendly conversation?’”

Megatron met Ratchet’s optics, “What?”

“Nothing, let’s go.”

******

Two bots greeted them at the fueling station. One introduced themselves as Nightchaser. The other was introduced to them as Gloomcast. They were both fairly hefty bots, but Nightchaser dwarfed Gloomcast in terms of size. Neither were weapons-capable, but there was a sizable armory that looked well maintained.

“Have you had many visitors here?” Megatron asked, folding his arms behind his back with a casual shrug.

Ratchet rolled his optics, “Have you seen this bot?” With a quick motion the medic pulled up a viz of Electraceae.

“Oh yeah, I remember her,” the femme bot gushed, “What a curious little thing. Gloomcast you remember that little pink thing that was in here a few cycles ago?”

Her partner made a soft grunt in response; whether he remembered or not Megatron couldn’t determine.

“She was with a companion, right?”

Megatron looked at Ratchet, musing that things didn't need to be so subtle after the war.

“Oh yes,” Nightchaser wrapped herself with her servos, “He had a scar on his face from the war, but you could tell they were so close. He came in holding her and he wouldn’t let her out of his arms until she recovered.”

Ratchet exchanged a glance with Megatron, “Recovered?”

“Seems like she was over-energized,” Gloomcast muttered loudly from the corner, “Stop bothering them.”

“Oh hush, maybe they were on their honeymoon,” she waved away his concern. “It’s true she seemed pretty bad off in the beginning. But once we got that weird yellow liquid stuff in her she sobered up.”

Megatron knew the silly ‘bot wouldn’t be much help, but Gloomcast seemed to have different ideas about their visitor. He patted Ratchet’s back before stepping away from his side.

“What are you working on?”

Gloomcast looked up on him and grunted, “Fixing one of the distillery pumps.”

“Did you see the Autobot we’re talking about?”

Gloomcast eyed him, “Unless things are changing a lot quicker than I thought, I don’t think you’re Cybertron Guard. But your friend fits the part.”

“We aren’t Cybertron Guards,” Megatron said lowly, “Far from it. We are allies of hers and we’re worried she might be in some kind of trouble.”

“Well,” Gloomcast vented, “That confirms all my fears.”

“You don’t think they were together.”

He nudged up his head in Nightchaser’s direction. “She’s been watching too many romance vids. She doesn’t know a femme who wants to say ‘no’ when she sees it.” Gloomcast spit out venomously, “Something off about those two.”

Something Gloomcast didn’t want to say.

“You know, we don’t want any trouble. But we’d be happy to keep this between us.”

Gloomcast looked over at Nightchaser, who was happily chatting with Ratchet who looked uncomfortable. “He comes after she’s been fixed up, you know? He says she needs some kind of new fuel. It’s pretty easy to synthesize but he wanted one of our machines. We can’t keep up with demand if we give away one of those though.”

“Did he take that well?”

Gloomcast clenched his servos into fists, “I explained they would need someone to uphold maintenance on the machines. Most of that information was lost before the war.”

Tarn would have to accept that, Megatron supposed.

“And her?”

“Well, when they came in, she wasn’t doing so good. Just got a little fixed up by one of the field medics that passes through. That bot needed to be in a medical bay and instead that giant mech she was with was hand feeding her some the fuel as I distilled it. She started waking up after that and….”

Megatron gave him a moment.

“Well, as I was bringing him the fuel, now my hearing isn’t too good anymore, but I think he threatened to kill the whole town.”

That was the most Tarn-like thing about the entire story.

Electraceae was hurt, and their ship in need of repairs. If she _had_ tried to escape, they wouldn’t have given her the courtesy of repairs. Or had some other party attempted to kidnap her from her kidnappers? If the DJD took her originally as a prisoner, would they really have coddled her like that?

“Did he do anything else to her?”

“He was handsy if that’s what you mean. That’s why Nightchaser has moons for optics.”

Megatron sighed, “Some shanix for your troubles.”

“Thank you, Lord Megatron.”

Megatron frowned and raised an optic.

“You could fool me normally, but the big guy kept mentioning you,” the mechanic stood. “I wouldn’t think you of all people would travel with the Healer of Cybertron.”

Megatron looked over to Ratchet, who looked irritated but was patiently listening to the large femme. “Thank you.” He would have to make fun of Ratchet later; ‘Healer of Cybertron’ was a terrible name.

Megatron walked back to Ratchet to hear the tail end of the conversation between them.

“-you know I have nothing against her frame type, but she really shouldn’t behave like that in public. And honestly-”

“I believe I am ready to depart,” Megatron spoke up.

“It was nice to…” Ratchet began before interrupting himself, “Well, anyway thank you.”

Ratchet hurried away a lot quicker than Megatron expected, skittering on his peds as he was. Out of audial range, Megatron joked. “What’s the rush?”

“Any longer in her presence and I would deprogram.”

“Hmmm, her companion did insinuate she’s prone to fancy.”

“She asked if we were together.”

Megatron stifled a snort, “And are we?”

“I’m not falling for that.”

Megatron swallowed, “Then we shall get back to the ship and debrief.”

“Debrief?” Ratchet said incredulously.

Megatron caught the irritated tone, “What would you call it?”

Ratchet huffed before asking, “What did you learn?”

“Nothing. She felt as if the big bot-”

“I believe it was Tarn without his shielding.”

“Well, they displayed affection like before the war. Nightchaser was aroused, jealous, and disgusted.”

“That is useless,” Megatron chuckled.

“Yeah, well I need a trip to the wash racks to get that conversation out of my joints.”

“Well,” Megatron countered, “I learned that Tarn threatened her the moment her Energon revived her.”

“With what?”

“Insurmountable death of the surrounding area.”

“Ah, she would fall for that,” Ratchet muttered, “But then, why would she let him touch her?”

“Why would he _want_ to touch her?” Megatron said disgustedly.

“What do you mean, she’s lovely!”

Megatron agreed but felt a twinge of jealousy, “I’m not insinuating she isn’t a catch. She is simply not Tarn’s type.”

“So why would they touch?”

They made eye contact and Megatron leaned into him, caressing the side of Ratchet’s helm. The medic eased into his touch.

“Well, Ratchet, “Megatron murmured, “Why would you let someone you hate touch _you_?”

Ratchet knocked his servo away, “That’s different.”

“In what way?”

“She _likes_ to touch everyone. You weren’t exactly hands-off on Cybertron.”

“Why does she do that?” Megatron ruminated, “Is it her position?”

“No,” Ratchet looked down, “Uh, Ultra Magnus found her that way.”

“Ultra Magnus?” Megatron could hardly imagine that stoic block being affectionate.

“Yes,” Ratchet gave him a look, “I’m no therapist but after he left her on Cybertron she became more…clingy. When I couldn’t meet her every day, I think she needed even more. She would just go out and find big groups of people to mingle with. It’s what made her an effective escort and explains her decision to be an idol.”

Megatron became more and more irritated, “It seems like we’re rescuing your new love.”

“No,” Ratchet stated admonishingly before calming, “I feel like she’s my daughter.”

_An Earth word…_ Megatron thought.

“I’m not sure on _any_ planet that a father would give his daughter kissing lessons.”

“I never gave her kissing lessons, I just said that to make you-”

Ratchet clamped down on the end of his sentence.

“Continue.”

“To make you jealous,” Ratchet finished.

Megatron didn’t have time to be dumbfounded.

“But Electraceae wouldn’t let Tarn touch her for no reason.”

“She is into bigger bots,” Megatron reminded.

“Then, do you think she doesn’t know what they are capable of?”

The DJD wouldn’t keep a prisoner without reason. It lagged in his processor. Why wouldn’t they just extract the information they needed?

“No, she was injured. You said they came here after Paradron.”

“It was sometime later but yes, this was the first sighting.”

“So perhaps she attempted to save her friend?”

_Or killed him_. But that was a thought Megatron kept to himself.

“Would the DJD violate the Iacon Conventions?”

_Absolutely_ , Megatron thought. “In what way?”

Ratchet shifted and Megatron knew him well enough that it was a sign he was uncomfortable with his next statement.

“Nothing, never mind.”

They’d finally made it back to the ship. Ratchet opened the load dock to go inside the ship.

“We won’t know anything until we find out why they are keeping her. For DJD standards she’s being well taken care of for someone they want information or something else from. Maybe they’re keeping her as a pet.”

Ratchet gave him a withering glance.

“Whoever they’re after must be important enough to keep her alive and functioning. But…”

The load doors started to close loudly and they both paused to watch.

“But what?” Ratchet prompted after the noise of the door subsided.

“Why isn’t she giving them what they want?”

“She was in Intel,” Ratchet reminded him, “But the only reason I can think is that whoever it is must be so important to Electraceae that she’d risk death and torture for them.”

Megatron shrugged, “Well I hope they know how lucky they are, whoever it is.”

“Is that enough debriefing?” Ratchet said sarcastically.

Megatron narrowed his optics at his tone, “We learned she is alive. Where should we go next?”

“To the planet you recommended,” Ratchet said as he began to walk away.

“I find it hard to believe someone who hated me so determinedly during the war would find it so easy to forgive me so soon after it.”

Ratchet froze, and once he had recovered, he only spluttered, “I don’t forgive you.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because you want to save our…” Ratchet searched desperately, “Friend.”

“My _friend_?”

“Don’t tell me you feel nothing for her?”

“Not as much as you,” Megatron touched his forehelm realize he was getting off track. “This isn’t what I want to talk about. Why did you save me?”

“Because I’m a sentimental old fool.”

Now Ratchet was raising his volume.

“Why did you come find me?”

“Because you care about Electraceae!” Ratchet yelled back immediately.

“Are you sure?”

Megatron only succeeded in making Ratchet frustrated.

“You would listen.”

“Why would I listen to you?”

“Because-” Ratchet stopped short.

“Well?”

“Don’t rush me!”

Ratchet now power walked away from Megatron who stalked after him.

“Why did you think I would listen to you after you left me?”

“You couldn’t stay.”

“And you couldn’t leave?”

“Someone needed to be there for Cybertron. You and Prime couldn’t be bothered!”

“Don’t lump me in with him.”

“You… _you_ could have stayed.”

Megatron tried not to throw his servos out in frustration, “You said I couldn’t stay, now you’re saying I could stay. Which is it?”

“That was after.”

“What did you want me to do, stay or go?”

“I don’t know!” Ratchet yelled.

“Did you think all the other Autobots would forgive me?”

“No!” Ratchet snapped.

“Perhaps, then, if I fragged everyone first?”

Ratchet braked and spun on his wheels. “How dare you?”

He advanced toward Megatron with a wagging digit, but ‘I’ was the only thing Megatron could decipher amidst his flustering.

Megatron closed his servos around Ratchet’s accusatory digit.

“That was low, doctor,” He confessed, “I apologize.”

“I don’t- “

Megatron interrupted him with a soft kiss on his forehelm. Ratchet huffed and pulled away to fold his servos.

“Why are you harassing me?”

“I am not,” Megatron began. “It wasn’t my intent.”

“What do you want from me?” Ratchet huffed, “Do you want me to say I forgive you? That would be a lie.”

“Then why are we here, Ratchet?” Megatron pied, “Together?”

Ratchet sighed, “Because I don’t hate you as much as I did during the war.”

Of anything Megatron expected this was not it. “You don’t hate me…” Megatron repeated slowly.

“As much as I used to,” Ratchet finished hastily.

Megatron’s spark fluttered, “What?”

Ratchet raised his shoulder plating, “I’m not repeating myself.”

They stood in silence for klik.

“I don’t hate you either,” the ex-warlord spoke carefully.

“Then we don’t hate each other as much as before.”

“Right.”

“What does that mean,” Megatron tried to be careful, “in terms of our physical relationship?”

“Are you going to push me into a closet to continue it?”

Megatron grinned before covering it up, “Not necessarily.”

“You know as well as I do that we both find…comfort in our time together.”

“Do you love Electraceae?”

“Of course,” Ratchet huffed, “But not as…. I’m not _in_ love with her. We have history but not… not like the war. Do you love her?”

“We’ve only met three times, Ratchet.”

“I thought you liked that kind of frame. Because she’s different and you seemed to admire her.”

“No,” Megatron shook his helm, “You have my ideal frame.”

Ratchet put a servo on his hip, “Flattery gets you nowhere. Stop focusing on my aft and let’s get to the task at hand.”


End file.
